Elder Scrolls True Daughter of Skyrim

I paused at the jagged lip of a collapsing ledge, chest heaving from the effort of climbing over crumbled stone and ash. My lungs still burned every time I inhaled, It wasn't spewing lava in every direction anymore, just the occasional flare and hiss of molten rock somewhere deep within. I wiped a grimy sleeve across my face, smearing soot on my cheek. My armor pinched painfully at my ribs; sections were dented and twisted out of shape.

I glanced down at the ring clenched in my gloved hand. The ascent to the mountain's shattered rim took time. Loose rubble slid from beneath my boots every few steps, tumbling into the molten depths below. The pathway was cracked and uneven, carved by the violent upheaval of rock not so long ago. I could still see the faint, orange glow of lava in the chasms that spidered through the ground. 

Every movement made my bruises flare. Eventually, I reached where the path widened into a precarious ledge overlooking a massive flow of molten rock. Heat radiated upward, shimmering in waves, and beads of sweat gathered at my hairline.

I lifted my hand, the Bright Lord's Ring glinting in the unearthly glow. My shoulders tensed. Part of me resented the thing for all the trouble it caused. Another part of me, some darker corner of ambition, almost wanted to keep it. To see what I could accomplish with power like that. Stop it, I told myself, breathing out slowly. This ring had no place in Middle-earth. And thanks to the Valar's arrangement, it was my responsibility to end it.

With a final exhale, I let the ring drop from my fingers. The bright band spun through the air and for the briefest moment. It vanished into the molten depths below, swallowed in a spatter of sparks. I half-expected some grand tremor or thunderous roar, but all I heard was a hiss lost in the already roaring flow. For a long moment, I just stared. Leaning against a chunk of broken stone, my limbs trembling from exertion.

Better this way. I sighed, pressing a hand over my aching chest. After a minute, I pushed myself upright, shoulders protesting. Taking one last look at the fiery doom below, I turned away and began the slow, careful trek back down. 

I trudged away from the still-smoldering slopes, carefully navigating chunks of blackened stone and fields of ash. Every step made my knees ache and my armor groans in protest, but I kept going. My body felt like someone had used it for target practice, a lot but I could feel my regen slowly going to work. Third time dying, third time coming back, blah, blah… you'd think I'd get used to it. But trust me, it never stops being weird.

Eventually, I found a spot where the ground evened out a bit, not too far from Mount Doom's shadow. Everything around me looked straight-up dead: no grass, no shrubs, just miles of dusty gray and volcanic rock. The air tasted like stale charcoal, and my lungs still stung with each breath. But I had a plan or half a plan, at least. I wanted to see what this new mark on my hand could really do.

I dug my boot heel into the barren dirt, took a slow breath, and closed my eyes. It felt odd, to focus on a land so devoid of life. Back home, whenever I messed with nature magic, I at least had grass or many trees to work with. 

My palm tingled, and the swirling design glowed faintly green against my skin. I pictured the essence of living things, roots pushing through soil, leaves unfurling under the sun, all that warm, fuzzy "life force" stuff Awalion loved to talk about when she taught me. Normally, I'd have to fight to coax the land into growth, especially in a place as bleak as Mordor, but I felt a strange new ease. The energy was there, ready to flow.

So I let it. I lifted my arm. A gentle pulse rolled through my bones, sinking into the earth beneath my feet. The ground started to ripple in tiny patches, cracks forming here and there. I jumped back a bit, worried I'd triggered another mini-earthquake but no, the land wasn't caving in. It was stirring.

A swirl of dust kicked up. I coughed and waved a hand in front of my face, blinking like an idiot. For a second, I thought the attempt had fizzled out. Then, almost too subtle to notice, a thin shoot poked through the ash, wriggling its way upward. A second one followed, then a third and then so many more. I let out a shaky laugh holy crap, it was working. I knelt, ignoring the creak in my knees.

I eased up on the flow of magic, mostly because I didn't want to pass out from overdoing it. Plus, I have limits, no matter how fancy this mark is. I took a step back and surveyed the stretch of land around me. Tiny green fields of shoots were scattered about.

"Damn," I muttered under my breath, shaking my head in disbelief. Last time I tried something like this here, I needed… well, let's just say I didn't pull it off alone. 

A sudden shift in the sky grabbed my attention. I noticed a thinning, almost like fingers raking through the dark clouds. A beam of sunlight slanted through the gloom, piercing the landscape with a sharp, golden ray. I straightened up. That… definitely wasn't me. My nature magic doesn't handle weather patterns yet. Must've been the Valar. Maybe they appreciated the effort, or maybe they just felt like giving me a break for once.

The sunlight skimmed over the ash, making the tiny shoots glisten. I just stood there gaping, probably looking like a wide-eyed dork. "Okay, that's cool," I said, voice echoing a bit in the still air. It felt good to see real light shining in a place that had been locked in gloom for who knows how long. 

Still, a grin tugged at my lips. I touched one of the shoots again, rubbing the thin stem between my thumb and forefinger. "Better you than me, buddy," I said under my breath, half-laughing at myself for talking to a plant. It didn't respond, obviously, but I swore it felt like there was a hint of acceptance in the air. Could've been my imagination. Or maybe not.

A soft rumble of wind brushed past, rustling the small shoots. I drew myself upright, checking my surroundings. I couldn't fix everything. Hell, I'd only be around a little longer, if all went to plan. I still had tasks to finish before I left this universe.

The sunlight lingered for a few more moments, illuminating my patch of green. I let the corners of my mouth lift in a crooked smile, feeling oddly proud of those tiny stems. Then I shifted my shoulders, wincing at the soreness, and turned to go. There were still a few things I had to do, people to see, maybe some final goodbyes.

I marched on, boots kicking up puffs of ash as the rift in the smoky sky slowly closed behind me. I arrived at the massive white walls of Gondor at sunrise. It was weird, in a good way, to see life going on so quickly after the war.

I had already stashed my armor in my storage, swapping it out for the loose, fire-keeper clothes I'd looted ages ago. Way more comfortable, especially when I'm not trying to scare the pants off some orc. As I made my way through the gate, a couple of guards eyed me warily.

"I'm with the Fellowship," I said. "Or… was, at least." I tried to not sound like a total braggart, but the guards still looked skeptical. The older one, a grizzled fellow sporting a salt-and-pepper beard, raised an eyebrow.

"Uh-huh," he said. "And who in the Seven Hells might you be?"

I sighed but kept my cool. "Look, I fought alongside Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and Boromir, ask them if you want. I'm not some random tourist."

The other guard blinked. "You're that elf, the one that locked the gates?" He glanced at his partner, some silent conversation passing between them. Finally, they relented, stepping aside to let me through. "All right," the older guard muttered. "Go on in. Someone'll probably want to see you."

Probably, I echoed in my mind with a snort. Yeah, I had a feeling.

I threaded my way through the city's winding streets, noticing how folks were beginning to celebrate in earnest. Banners and ribbons, some still a bit tattered hung from windows, and kids ran around with broad grins. People were passing bread around, hugging strangers, the kind of relief you only see when a horrible shadow's been lifted. The Dark Lord was gone. They'd earned every bit of cheer, and if any city needed some good times, it was Gondor.

Eventually, I spotted a familiar face: Faramir. He was talking with a pair of soldiers, but when he saw me, his eyes went wide. He excused himself and hurried over, looking half-stunned and half-thrilled.

"You're alive!" he said, almost laughing as he said it.

"Yeah, about that," I mumbled, trying not to think too hard about my near-permanent death experiences. "Turns out I'm a little harder to kill than expected."

He gave me a swift nod, though there was a flicker of relief behind his polite demeanor. "Boromir will want to see you. He's in the Great Hall. Or… well, it's still under repair, but that's what we're calling it. And Aragorn—"

"Where is our soon-to-be King, anyway?" I asked, grinning despite myself.

Faramir's expression softened. "He's taken it upon himself to help reorganize the city. But he's expecting you."

Sure enough, I found Boromir and Aragorn side by side in one of the large courtyards that overlooked Gondor's fields. Boromir looked better, his shoulders squared, eyes bright, like the weight of the world had finally slid off his back. As for Aragorn, he was in the thick of discussing something with a group of advisors, but the moment he spotted me, he excused himself with a quick, regal wave of the hand. It was almost comical seeing him switch from "scruffy ranger" to "kingly presence," but hey, if anyone could do it, it was him.

"By the grace of the Valar," Boromir said, and I burst out laughing at how formal he sounded. He immediately cracked a smile and clapped me on the shoulder in greeting. "I truly thought we lost you," he added, sobering for a moment. "I… I mourned you."

I swallowed a lump in my throat. "I'm sorry about that," I said quietly. "But hey, I'm here now."

Aragorn stepped forward, brushing aside the advisors who were craning their necks to listen in. He gave me a once-over, noticing my attire. "Not sure I've seen you in that before."

I shrugged. "Lost my armor trying not to get squashed by a mountain. Figured something comfy would work."

A hint of amusement twitched across his face. "You're welcome to as much comfort as you like here in Gondor. You've earned it."

He didn't quite say 'You saved the world, too,' but I felt the unspoken gratitude. Boromir cut in, eyes gleaming. "You'll be happy to know that my father's… well, let's just say he's no longer in charge." The corner of his mouth twitched, and I saw a flash of relief (and maybe a little smug satisfaction) on his face. "He was arrested shortly after things settled. Seems the city had enough of his madness."

I couldn't help a small grin. "Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy."

Aragorn nudged Boromir with his elbow, half-chiding. "He's still your father."

Boromir shrugged but didn't argue. The tension in his posture said enough: he loved Denethor, but the man had nearly brought Gondor to ruin.

Just then, I heard a deep, familiar rumble a half-growl, half-purr kind of sound. I spun around, and there was Mister Snuffles, my big fluffy warg, bounding toward me, tail wagging like an overexcited dog. A few of the guards in the courtyard tensed, but I laughed and dropped to a knee. "There you are, big guy," I said, letting him nudge my cheek. It felt like ages since I'd last seen him. "Missed you, too."

Aragorn's eyebrows shot up. "You're the only one I know who could make a warg look downright cuddly."

Boromir chuckled. "He's never tried to eat my face, at least."

I smirked. "He's pretty chill, especially now that we can… well, put him someplace safe. Got a new trick, so he can rest if he wants." A few folks around us looked understandably confused, but I didn't bother explaining. 

A while later, after a flurry of greetings and well-wishers, some of the Fellowship members popped in, giving me quick hugs or hearty backslaps—we ended up in one of the smaller halls. The city was buzzing with celebration, but folks still found time to organize supplies for travelers, which was convenient because I made it clear I didn't plan on staying longer than a day. I had my own matters to see to.

Aragorn, newly crowned (or about to be, details aside), oversaw everything. He arranged for a sturdy horse, apparently a gift from the stables of Rohan, a fine chestnut mare with a decent temperament. "It's the least we can do," he said in that quietly noble tone of his. "We owe you far more than a horse."

Boromir, standing nearby, nodded. "We've gathered supplies, food, blankets, that sort of thing. Enough to last you a good long while."

I tried not to look too smug. "Thank you. I can carry whatever you've got."

Aragorn gave me a curious glance, remembering that I could apparently stuff quite a bit of stuff in my storage. "We figured as much, though we won't ask how."

I just grinned. "It's better if you don't. Trust me."

They led me to the courtyard, where a handful of soldiers were prepping the horse. A small group of locals watched from a distance, still in a festive mood. 

After one more round of goodbyes, Aragorn clasping my forearm, and Boromir giving me a bear-like hug. Finally, with the horse all set, I stroked her muzzle and tried to sound confident. "Thanks for everything," I said to Aragorn, Boromir, and everyone else lingering. My voice came out softer than I intended; guess I was more emotional than I realized. "You guys saved me just as often as I saved you. Good luck with the kingdom and all that… king stuff."

Boromir laughed. "I'll let Aragorn deal with the boring parts."

Aragorn shot him a half-amused glare. "We will see if you still find it boring when it's your turn to hold council, Steward."

I smirked at their banter, climbing into the saddle. Mister Snuffles nudged my leg again, uncertain about being left behind. I patted his head. "You're coming with me, silly." With a quick mental push, I stored him away, feeling a gentle tug in my mindscape as he vanished. People around us murmured, clearly amazed.

Aragorn laid a hand on the horse's flank. "Safe travels," he said. "Wherever your road takes you."

I gave him a nod, then clicked my tongue, guiding the mare through the courtyard. The crowd parted, offering kind smiles and murmured thanks. In my ears, the bustle of celebration merged with the clop of hooves on stone. I glanced back once, taking in the view of Gondor's bright banners and newly hopeful faces, then pressed on.